Beneath The Glass

I spend most of my time dreaming. The most gratifying vision I have is of life on pause. I dream of the world completely stopping for everyone other than me. What will I do in this static world?

Sleep. I will sleep. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I dream that this sleep will take away everything: the fatigue, pain, neurological damage and every ‘red herring’ that cannot be quantified by the medical community.

I will wake to my ‘old body,’ my teenage body, the one I so shamelessly took for granted. The body I binged and purged from out of hate, the body surreptitiously stuck on the other side of the glass.

I didn’t think much about chronically ill people back then. I never wondered about their nostalgia for health, that intense pining their imagination could make so palpable.

For them, life could be this immensely beautiful view through a cracked and clouded windshield; every day spent futilely trying to clean it off from the inside. Despite the irrefutable knowledge that all that shit is just out of reach, the thought of doing nothing from the other side of the glass likely felt even more deceptively tragic.

I do that a lot. I refer to ‘them’ without including myself. I try to clean the glass from the inside knowing it will never fully penetrate the brown decrepit haze. I am enlightened enough to know that real acceptance –seeing beauty within the cracks and dirt– is where true healing and happiness will lie for me. But I cannot escape the fight, the quest to see the entire scene. Sometimes that makes me feel beautifully hopeful, sometimes that makes me feel like I am wasting what is left.

So maybe my life is just one big hopeful pause. At least that’s how eight years of treatment feels sometimes, living amidst the extreme pain and lunacy of my own body defying me from every angle. The only thing that keeps me going is the idea that one day it will stop, and I don’t know if that means gasping my last breath or my first.

Between the yoga, meditation, alternative medicine, food cleanses, traditional medications, homeopathic drops, a whole-food ‘life-style,’ (drinking green algae while my friends took shots in our college house), taking barium during lectures for CAT scans between classes –you’d think somewhere in there I would have found some sort of constant Zen–.

But, I’m still mad as hell. I still feel as if I somehow have a right to a healthy life for all the time and energy I’ve put into that dream. Hands red, calloused and tingling, I can’t stop trying to clean this fucking windshield.

Upon proper diagnosis, treatment began as a 24-hour job, all-hands-on-deck. Gradually, year over year, I began to insert life into the picture. I lost the ability to read for a while, but slowly I integrated writing and books into my day.

Here I am, eight years later, almost passable as a human being. But to me, it’s not clear enough; it’s not what I wanted.

Pills start at 3 a.m., my boyfriend wakes me up to make sure I take them. Every hour on the hour I take another couple, until the alarm sounds for work. I put on my French make-up, J-crew pencil skirt, cheetah-print Italian heels and a white Ralph Lauren Oxford. I look like something right out of the catalogue, complete with my black nerd glasses and French bun.

I drive through Innovation Drive, climbing the elevator to the top, security key-card in hand, saluting the receptionist as I head into the “Sales Pit.”

“Own It,” “Push Yourself,” “Never Give Up,” plaques covering the wall on the way to my 4×5 cubicle. After topping the sales chart consistently for the past 12 months, I’d say I embody the company’s vision.

For years I dreamt about being here, being this person, the put-together professional woman. I dreamed of moving from my parents’ home, being able to assist in all the medical bills, finding a way to dig myself out of the student debt and finally graduate.

Here I am, on the other side, making $80,000 in an entry-level position. So why can’t I help but feel like the cold, sticky, burnt remnants of day-old coffee in my company cup?

I cannot help but feel like an imposter, a seemingly loyal appendage to the logo that is already betrothed to another.

That’s when the dreams flood in again. The sleep. If I just lie down, if I rest, if I do this cleanse, if I do this diet, if I pay this $700 to this specialist, if I just…push…pause.

But I can’t, I can’t find that space, that time. I cannot be the sick girl, the professional girl, the dedicated health guru; time and life doesn’t allow for it all to exist on the same plane. They all want something from me, my disease wants to keep holding me hostage, my mind wants me to put everything into getting better and my job wants my complete and utter dedication to the company goal.

But, stop it… I’m lucky, right? I can pay the bills, see the doctors I couldn’t afford, buy the medication I used to toss onto my financially struggling parents. “I’m lucky!” I say, as I sit in my cubicle watching the trees blow by… watching the trees beyond this spotless UV penetrating corporate glass.

I am lucky. But I am still in here, while life is out there. I’m still cleaning this glass, this fucking partitioning spot-filled glass… and I can’t seem to give up on the idea that it will all somehow come clean.

Lauren Randall is a journalism-major-turned-sales-rep and a relentless pursuer of beauty.

Ring in New Years 2016 with Jen Pastiloff at her annual Ojai retreat. It’s magic! It sells out quickly so book early. No yoga experience required. Just be a human being. With a sense of humor. Email barbara@jenniferpastiloff.com with questions or click photo to book. NO yoga experience needed. Just be a human being.

Join Jen for a weekend retreat at Kripalu Center in Western Massachusetts Feb 19-21, 2016.Get ready to connect to your joy, manifest the life of your dreams, and tell the truth about who you are. This program is an excavation of the self, a deep and fun journey into questions such as: If I wasn’t afraid, what would I do? Who would I be if no one told me who I was?Jennifer Pastiloff, creator of Manifestation Yoga and author of the forthcoming Girl Power: You Are Enough, invites you beyond your comfort zone to explore what it means to be creative, human, and free—through writing, asana, and maybe a dance party or two! Jennifer’s focus is less on yoga postures and more on diving into life in all its unpredictable, messy beauty.Note Bring a journal, an open heart, and a sense of humor. Click the photo to sign up.

The 12 Day Detox is here. Sign up now for the next cleanse on November 30th. Space is limited. This detox comes at just the perfect time. Reprogram your body and mind as we move into the holiday season. This is your time of rejuvenation and renewal.This is not a juice fast, or a detox based on deprivation.

Share this:

The Manifest-Station was created by Jennifer Pastiloff. Angela Patel is editor and full-time badass. These two beauty-hunters curate content that will move you, make you think, and remind you what it means to be human. Jen leads her workshops (The Manifestation Workshop: On Being Human) all over the world & online. Check the tab at the top under retreats/workshops. Jen is also the founder of "Girl Power: You Are Enough," to remind young women that yes, they do have a place in this world and they are enough. No matter what. Jen is represented by Adriann Ranta at Foundry Media. For queries please contact aranta@foundrymedia.com. And remember: Don't Be An Asshole. To contribute to our scholarship fund to help send a woman to a workshop/retreat please donate here:

Preorder Jen’s book

About Jen Pastiloff

People Magazine says: Jennifer is changing women's lives through her empowerment workshops.
Cheryl Strayed says: Jennifer Pastiloff is a conduit of awakenings.
Lidia Yuknavitch says: Dear Jen, From you I have learned to alchemize fear with love, to redistribute love through compassion, to enter a room with others.
Jen leads her signature Manifestation Workshop: On Being Human all over the world & online. Her memoir will be published by Dutton Books in 2019. Preorders available now at JenniferPastiloff.com
Her workshops are a unique blend of writing and some yoga. She has developed a massive following based on her writing & workshops.
A London workshop attendee says, "A space to show up and be human. A fusion of yoga and singing and writing and sharing, with laughter and tears mixed in! To be held and encouraged so beautifully by Jen, who won't flinch....but stay connected to us all through the journey. She creates a strong container, sits on the edges of our yoga mats listening to the stories that weave us together as human beings. She gives us the gift of attention, space and time.
It's a space for connecting, for intimacy...you leave in a different place from where you arrive...It's a chance to show up, to own our fears and our dreams, our deep yearnings and the things we'd love to manifest in our lives. A chance to be wholeheartedly present and come back home a little more to ourselves."
Jen also leads retreats with Emily Rapp & Lidia Yuknavitch. She is also the guest speaker at Canyon Ranch three times a year. All info is at the top under Retreats/Workshops.Donate below to our scholarship fund to help send someone to a workshop/retreat who can't afford to attend.

About Angela M Giles

Angela M Giles is an editor and fellow badass at The Manifest-Station. Angela prides herself on being exactly who she is: An accidental warrior working to make grace and kindness sexy again. In her day job as a senior executive at an investment firm, she navigates the patriarchy, the glass ceiling, and government regulations with surprising ease and unapologetic language. By night she reads and writes and listens to music and occasionally sleeps. Her full-time passion is her son, who is proof that her heart exists outside her body.
She has had her work appear online at The Nervous Breakdown, Literary Mothers, Medium: Human Parts as well as other journals. She has been featured in print at The Healing Muse and is a contributor to Shades of Blue, an anthology on depression and suicide from Seal Press. Angela tweets and is on Instagram as @angela.m.giles, and when inspired updates her blog, Air Hunger (http://airhunger.net). Angela lives in Massachusetts where she conquers the world, one day at a time.

Donate to our scholarship fund to help send someone to a retreat/workshop.

Instagram Slider

10 hours agoby jenpastiloffIt’s really not hard. Look for ways. Be that person. We’re lifted up often by the simplest of things. They don’t have to cost money. When I take my head out of my ass I see so many opportunities to support, to help, to serve, to love. You in? Do the thing.

3 days agoby jenpastiloffJust bit through my tongue at lunch because apparently I’m still learning how to eat. Also, Charlie scratched himself & his school sent him home & said I had to take him to doctor & get a note for him to return. I guess it looks like a rash? Anyway, how’s your Tuesday? I’m just here bleeding and missing tastebuds. My fake lashes look nuts but I can only be in one place at a time so I had to cancel my appointment (sorry @ginasbeverlyhills ) and oh yea, C needs tubes in his ears (like I did) because he

21 hours agoby jenpastiloffLast night I had the absolute privilege of hearing @roxanegay74 in conversation with @marlonjameswriter . I use the word “hear” loosely as I read lips & I really struggled. I snagged a front row seat but there was a speaker blocking Roxane so I couldn’t see her face to read her lips. I kept leaning into the woman next to me & apologizing. I tend to not go to events like this because it’s so hard for me to hear but I’m so happy I went. I got to meet both of them! @roxanegay74 is a shero of mine & my

2 days agoby jenpastiloffCharlie Mel & my Daddy Mel have always known each other. I love this moment. 2 years ago. I wish my dad was alive to see both my son & book be born. Life, huh?! #onbeinghuman